potential
by dirigible plums
Summary: eli x clare • i'd made my exit by storming out of the room and crashing into eli—who might have held me for longer had i not yanked myself free.
1. Chapter 1

It was almost eleven by the time my mom and I got back from the church fundraiser on Wednesday night, and I still hadn't finished my English assignment. It was unlike me, of course, to put my homework on the back burner—especially when it should have _already_ been handed in—but, I didn't care. I didn't care that I would have to pull an all-nighter to make up for lost time. I didn't care that I would have to trade my English breakfast tea in for a strong cup of coffee—gross—the next morning. I'd been there for my mom when she'd needed me, all smiles in my navy dress and the most uncomfortable—albeit prettiest—heels I owned, and I was glad. She had been under too much stress lately, juggling all of her usual undertakings with preparing for the fundraiser and arguing with my dad. She'd needed a break, she'd needed help, and she _had_ to come before Ms. Dawes, otherwise, what kind of daughter was I? Not to mention, she had to come before Eli Goldsworthy as well—no matter how much I had wanted to spend the night embarrassing myself with him.

It was strange, what he and I had. What we were starting to have. Earlier that day, he'd told me that I cared too much about what other people thought, something K.C. Guthrie had also assumed after we first met—but, with Eli, it had been more playful. When K.C. had dared me to prove him wrong, I'd felt as though I'd really _needed_ to prove him wrong. When Eli had dared me to scream, to scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of a crowded street, I'd felt as though I'd had nothing to lose. At first, I'd been nervous. But, in seconds, I'd realized that he didn't care. He didn't worry about what other people thought. He just smiled his crooked smile—and in the end, when I'd somehow managed to pin him against a tree, I could have kissed him. It would have been the perfect moment.

I kept thinking about it as I made my way upstairs, slipping out of my heels and setting them down in my closet as soon as I was back in my bedroom, where I had hastily readied myself for the evening. Retrieving my laptop from where I had left it on my desk, I fell onto my bed, dragging my index finger across the track pad and hoping that, once I got started, the letter would write itself. It was true, Eli already frustrated me more than anyone else I knew, but, he'd had a point about my writing—in order to be worthy of an A, it had to be personal. I had to stop hiding, regardless of how scared I was to let people in. So, I started to type. And, an hour later, after I had successfully written 498 words—

**eli-gold49:** i'm beginning to think i'm a bad influence on you

I smiled, adjusting the strap of my dress—which I probably should have changed out of—on my shoulder.

**clare-e23:** what makes you say that?

I waited impatiently for his reply, because as much as he frustrated me, he excited me even more.

**eli-gold49:** well, there's approximately seven hours until school starts, and i think under normal circumstances, you'd be asleep

**clare-e23:** you're right. so, you are a bad influence—and a big distraction

**eli-gold49:** still working on dawes's assignment?

**clare-e23:** i wouldn't be if you had let me work on it this afternoon

**eli-gold49:** you invited me

**clare-e23:** you could have stayed in class

**eli-gold49:** where's the fun in that? besides, english is boring without the banter

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered.

**eli-gold49:** how's it coming?

**clare-e23:** great! the title's centered

**eli-gold49:** sounds like an A+ to me

I smiled again, leaning back against my pillows and staring down at my unpolished fingernails. Even when we were just instant messaging, he made my heart race.

**clare-e23:** hey, do you think you'd want to meet me at the dot tomorrow before school? i'll need a big cup of coffee to remedy my lack of sleep

**eli-gold49:** i guess it's the least i can do, since i'm partially responsible

**eli-gold49:** want me to pick you up?

**clare-e23:** are you going to run over anything else of mine?

**eli-gold49:** only your dignity

**clare-e23:** i suppose i can't blame you for trying to finish what you started

**clare-e23:** see you at 6:30, then?

**eli-gold49:** bright and early

**eli-gold49:** you'd better get back to work so i have something worth reading tomorrow

**clare-e23:** right. goodnight, ted hughes

**eli-gold49:** sweet dreams, sylvia plath

I signed off, turning my attention back to my letter. There was still a long way to go, but, it had potential. It was a start. Like a pair of dead glasses, like a scream or an almost-kiss in the middle of a crowded street, my 498 words would amount to something great.


	2. Chapter 2

I finished my assignment just after one on Thursday morning—in other words, much sooner than I had expected. But, because I had made plans to meet Eli in less than six hours, I couldn't celebrate my completed paper with some much needed sleep; he was a bad influence, he was a big distraction, and thinking about him was keeping me up. Maybe, it was because he was so enigmatic, because it would take me more than a day or two to figure him out. Maybe, it was because he wasn't afraid to express himself, or because he drove a vintage hearse to school every day. Maybe, it was because he'd told me I had pretty eyes. There was just something about him. And, whatever it was had me tossing and turning until the birds started to chirp, and the morning light began to creep in through my window.

"Clare, it's almost six," My mom knocked on my bedroom door, letting herself in before I could mumble in response. "Clare, wake up. I have a very important meeting this morning, and I don't want to be late."

Reluctantly, I sat up, rubbing my eyes and shielding them while my mom opened up my curtains. Had I really spent five and a half hours obsessing over my English partner? "Mom, you don't have to drive me today. You can go whenever you're ready."

"Oh," she replied, and I could feel her inquisitive eyes on me even before I removed my hand from my own. "Is Sav picking you up?"

Sav Bhandari was practically the only teenager my parents trusted to drive me around. It could have been because he was Alli's older brother, because they knew the family well—but, I had a feeling that his passing his driver's test on the first try was what convinced them. Ironically, he wasn't a great driver, easily distracted by Alli in the back seat or any number of his friends on his cell phone.

"Um, no, it's uh," I paused, trying to be as nonchalant about it as possible. "A friend. A new friend. A new, reliable friend who doesn't respect anything as much as he respects the rules of the road."

Smooth.

My mom gave me a skeptical expression, eventually glancing at her wristwatch with a sigh. "If I leave now, I might have time to stop for coffee before I have to be—" She stopped, looking up at me again. "All right. But, you'd better be at school _on_ time."

"I will." I smiled. "Thanks."

"You'd better start getting ready." She returned my smile, closing the door behind her as she left the room—and, so began my Thursday.

I showered quickly, suppressing yawns as I slipped into my undergarments and tamed my messy auburn hair. I yanked on my jeans, digging around in my closet for my favorite pair of flats and trying on three different tops before I was satisfied with the way I looked—something I'd _never_ felt was particularly important. By the time I finished primping it was 6:20, and I had ten minutes to grab my English assignment, slide it into my backpack, and toss a Pop-Tart into the toaster—something that could have been accomplished had my parents not been arguing in the middle of the kitchen. Needless to say, I decided to skip the Pop-Tart, stepping out onto the porch a few minutes early. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to matter that I'd distanced myself from my mom and dad. I could still hear them shouting, and it made me feel more nauseated than I already felt.

With my hands over my ears, I waited for Eli, who showed up about five minutes behind schedule, greeting me with a short wave and a well-rested smile. I'd never been so happy to see him—to see _anyone_—in my entire life.

"Wow," he remarked, as I opened the passenger door.

"What?" I replied, taking a seat and setting my backpack down at my feet. My tone was icier than I had intended it to be. "I'm sorry."

"Bad morning?"

"To say the least," I answered. "What were you going to say?"

"That you look like a zombie."

I sighed, though I couldn't keep a short laugh from escaping my lips as I fastened my seat belt. "I know, I know. Let's just get out of here." I really didn't want him to hear my parents fighting, and at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to get as far away from home as possible.

"Sure thing," he responded, pulling out of my driveway and starting down the road. "How'd the writing go?"

I shrugged. "It's finished."

"Are you happy with it?"

"I think I need a second opinion."

"I'll give you mine as long as we get some caffeine in you first," said Eli.

I smiled. "Should I bother to ask why caffeine is necessary?"

"Because I'm sure I'll need about a dozen red pens to properly edit your work," he teased. "And, if you scratch my eyes out, I won't be able to watch _Pearl Harbor_ in History today."

"Hilarious."

Eli Goldsworthy. He was just so—_ugh_. It didn't make any sense. In fact, it was arguable that it made as much sense as my lusting after Declan Coyne. But, Alli was right. He was a bad influence, he was a big distraction, and I was slowly—but, surely—falling in love with him.


	3. Chapter 3

It was when we were sitting at a table by the window at The Dot that I started to feel the repercussions of my sleepless night. Even with Eli reading my letter—my very _personal_ letter—across from me, and half a cup's worth of coffee in my system, I could barely keep my eyes open, and my head was beginning to hurt. At this rate, I wasn't going to make it to English class. Perhaps, if I hadn't managed my time well in the past, and had pulled all-nighters on a more regular basis, I wouldn't have been so shell-shocked.

"So, what do you think?" I asked, breaking the silence with an embarrassing mix of a mumble and a yawn.

"Wow," He remarked for the second time that morning, looking up at me again. "How did it feel to write this?"

I didn't respond right away, thinking while I traced tiny circles on the tabletop with my finger. I remembered how good it had felt to put everything I'd wanted to say to my parents into writing, even if they were never going to read it. It had been cathartic. And, if I hadn't spent what had been left of my night thinking about Eli, I would have been stress-free.

"Good," I answered. "Really good. It's everything I wanted to say."

"You should show it to your parents," he suggested.

I almost choked on my coffee. "No!" I blurted out, turning more than a few heads—and _familiar _heads at that. In particular, I could see K.C. and Jenna Middleton in my peripheral vision, and for a moment, I wanted to die. Why did they have to be there? Why did they have to be everywhere?

Eli could only smirk. "Why not?"

"It'd make things worse." I replied, lowering my voice. "They're already fighting all the time. Why would I want to give them another reason to argue?"

"You have to tell them how you feel." He said, matter-of-factly.

"I've been trying, but, they don't want to talk."

"Well, maybe, you could—"

Eli was interrupted by Alli Bhandari, who had just retrieved a towering cup of coffee from Peter Stone at the counter. I hadn't seen her come in, and—apparently—she hadn't noticed my presence either until now. Greeting us with a simple "hello," she gave me a look I knew very well, and I could tell that my meeting with Eli was over; when Alli needed to talk to me, it was always a matter of life or death, and it was unlikely that it would be any different this time.

"Sav's been talking about Anya _all_ morning," she complained, rolling her eyes. "If I get back in the car with him, my ears will start bleeding!"

Eli and I exchanged smiles.

"I think I'm going to walk," Alli added, giving me a hint that might have been subtle had I not been her best friend. "Clare, do you think you could keep me company?"

"Uh," I began, my eyes locking with Eli's. "I don't kn—"

"It's cool," He shrugged, standing up and handing me my paper. "I'll see you in class."

"Oh, um," I tried not to sound too disappointed. "Okay."

And, just like that, he was out the door, coffee cup in hand as he made his way back to his hearse—and away from me.

* * *

By the time Alli and I made it to Degrassi, I knew more about Drew Torres than I had ever wanted to know. He had replaced Riley Stavros as captain and star quarterback of the football team, his biceps were fantastic, he was a great kisser—blah, blah, blah. He might have been an okay guy, but, I didn't understand the appeal. What set him apart from the rest of the jocks at Degrassi? Alli wasn't the only girl who'd fallen head-over-heels for him. Everyone was talking about Drew Torres.

"Do you think it's too soon?" Alli asked, staring at him as he pulled a textbook out of his locker.

"Yes," I responded, even though I knew I was being hypocritical. While she was making googly eyes at Drew, I was surveying my surroundings in search of Eli. I should have taken my own advice. It was way, _way_ too soon. Wasn't it?

"Last night had to have meant something," Alli proclaimed, finally turning her attention back to her own locker, and swinging it closed. "There was a spark."

"Maybe, you should try taking it slow," I proposed, following suit. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

Before he'd graduated, Johnny DiMarco had broken Alli's heart, exploiting her bad judgment by sending naked pictures of her to his friend, Bruce—and all because of a dense disagreement. She'd been a mess for _weeks_. I didn't want to rain on her parade, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but, while other girls might have encouraged her to jump right into things, it was my job to tell her everything she didn't want to hear. I was the sensible one, after all. I had to throw in my two cents.

"Don't worry," she read my mind, reassuring me. "I'm never going to make that mistake again."

"Are you sure you're on the same page?" I asked, glancing at the boy in question. He was talking to a girl I recognized from Pre-Calculus, another class I shared with Eli, and—despite his alleged make-out session with Alli less than twenty-four hours prior—he didn't seem at all bothered by her flirting.

"Save me a seat in homeroom?"

"_Alli_."

"Don't _worry_," she repeated, before bidding me goodbye and closing the distance between herself and Drew. I hung back to watch her interrupt, and as the flirty girl stormed off down the hall, I felt grateful that I wasn't attracted to football players.

* * *

"Ms. Edwards, Mr. Goldsworthy, it's nice of you to join us today." Ms. Dawes observed, making my stomach do a somersault. I hadn't really considered what Eli and I would have to do to make amends for skipping class. In fact, I'd been so desperate to keep from sharing my writing that I'd almost forgotten about the consequences. "Actually, I'm excited to hear your excuses for skipping last class. Let me guess—violent food poisoning?"

I decided to tell a half-truth. "Actually, we were both working on our assignments."

"Original," said Ms. Dawes, who had always been tough—but, fair. "But, it's not going to save you from detention. Now, I'd like to hear those assignments. Ms. Edwards, why don't you go first?"

"Me?" I managed feebly.

"Yeah. Come on," she heartened, gesturing for me to stand up, and giving me the floor. "We'll see if the assignment helped with your writer's block."

Reluctantly, I obliged, making my way to the front of the class, where forty-two eyes would be on me. Nerves and nausea mercilessly met my fatigue, and I was certain that I was going to throw up. Regardless, I took a deep breath, and began to speak.

"'We need to talk' is a line that every kid dreads." I paused, swallowing hard. "But, you know what's worse? Waiting for it—every minute of every hour of every day. Because I know it's coming, the reason why you're fighting all the time, and I know I won't like the answer. But, whatever you tell me can't be worse than the waiting. S-So, please don't make me wait any longer—" I couldn't go on. It was like the words got caught in my throat. "I'm sorry," I apologized immediately, my voice shaking. "T-There's more—"

Ms. Dawes held up her hand. "No, that's all right." She smiled. "It's a good start. What say you, Eli?"

"I think it deserves a larger audience," he answered. "Like at the student showcase tomorrow."

No. No. _No_! What was he doing? Principal Simpson had organized the showcase to exhibit the creative talent at Degrassi, and while I would have been honored to participate in it under different circumstances—

"That's a fantastic idea." Ms. Dawes remarked. "Clare?"

"Well, it's kind of _personal_."

Eli smiled. I hated him. I _hated_ him!

"Yeah, but, all great art is personal. And, this is head and shoulders above your last work. I am signing you up after class." Ms. Dawes insisted, and we both returned to our desks.

"My mom's going to be in the showcase," I hissed at Eli. Was that what he was going to suggest that morning? That I read my letter at the showcase?

He turned to face me, unfazed by the fact that I was shooting daggers at him with my eyes. "Which means she'll be forced to listen to you. Isn't this what you wanted?"

I _wanted_ to cry. But, instead, I averted my eyes from his, weighing my options. I could drop out, or I could risk ruining my family. Decisions, decisions.

"I can't believe you did that."

"Think you'll ever forgive me?"

"Not unless you're right."


	4. Chapter 4

On Friday morning, I was more of a mess than I had been on Thursday—again, because of Eli Goldsworthy. I had stayed up all night worrying about the showcase, silently rehearsing what I would say to my mother after I'd finished reading my letter—after I'd invited a room full of parents and teachers into our private lives. I'd had nightmares about it, all of them short and similar; each and every one had ended with shouting. At four o'clock, I'd locked myself in the bathroom, and I'd stayed there, weeping off and on until sunrise. To say I was exhausted would have been an understatement, and it was a kind of weariness that no amount of caffeine could fix. I wanted nothing more than to go home—no. Not home. I wanted nothing more than to go _somewhere_, somewhere I could sleep. Somewhere my parents weren't. Nevertheless, I was at Degrassi, prepared to deal with what Eli had gotten me into. Sort of.

Where was he, anyway? He knew I was angry with him, but, I'd been counting on him showing up regardless. The whole thing had been his idea in the first place.

"Clare Edwards," came a familiar voice. "Here to add something else to her list of accomplishments."

But, it wasn't Eli. It was—

"Darcy!" I cried, closing the distance between us as quickly as I could and throwing my arms around her. I couldn't believe it. Darcy was home. It felt like I was dreaming—and without hesitation, I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't.

Minutes passed before she pulled away, and as soon as she did, she rested her hands on my shoulders, grinning. "Oh, my God, look at you." She said.

"Look at you," I returned, and we were hugging again. "I've missed you so much, Darce."

Darcy let out a shaky sigh. "I've missed you, too. It feels like it's been _for_ever."

"It _has_ been forever. Do our parents know you're back?" I asked when she released me.

She shook her head, and I could tell that she had intended for her homecoming to be a surprise; it was something she had planned on her own. "All of my luggage is at The Dot," she explained. "I was lucky enough to run into Peter. He told me about the showcase."

I frowned. "It's—not that big of a deal. And, it wasn't really _my_ idea."

It was then that Eli came into view, rounding a corner and trudging toward us. He smiled his crooked smile, waving as he came closer, and lifting his headphones off of his ears. Of course, _he_ wasn't anxious at all.

"Hey," He greeted. "Freaking out?"

"A little bit, yeah," I seethed. Though, I managed to put my anger aside long enough to introduce him to Darcy. "This is Eli, my writing partner. He's infuriating."

Eli shrugged. "Guilty. And, you're—"

"Darcy," she smiled, shaking his hand. If only she knew. "I'm Clare's sister."

I'd always hated being in Darcy's shadow when we were younger, but, she had been gone for so long that I'd almost forgotten I had a sister. I had to admit her being there did help with my nerves—although, I probably should have been worrying about how it would affect _her_. She didn't know that our parents were fighting all the time. She'd been away, and it wasn't something my mom would have mentioned in her phone calls and e-mails.

"I can't go out there." I said, facing Eli. "I just—I can't do this."

"So I keep hearing."

"Why do you have to be so _mean_?" I demanded. "You _know_ why—"

Darcy put a hand on my shoulder, distracting me from my argument with Eli just long enough for me to rethink what I wanted to do to his face. "This seems like—I just mean—I'm going to go somewhere, you know. Away."

And, so, she left, because she knew what our argument was. It was personal, and by definition, something that was meant to be kept between Eli and I. Just like my letter.

"Eli—"

I could feel my hands shaking as Sav Bhandari said his piece at the podium, welcoming my audience. I smiled halfheartedly at my mom when our eyes met, waving.

"Okay, you wanted to talk to your mom and, this is your chance." said Eli, who didn't seem at all put off by my hostility.

I sighed, turning my back on my mother and her colleagues. "Maybe, I am a worrywart. Maybe, there's nothing wrong at home." I tried.

Eli scoffed. "Maybe, you're scared."

"Of _what_?"

"Of finding out what's really going on with your parents."

"Not true."

"Then, _prove_ it." He urged, asking me to scream in the middle of a crowded street all over again. "Dawes assigned us as English partners because she thought you needed to take risks."

"With my _writing_! Not my _life_!" I paused. "This isn't me shouting in a park in front of a bunch of strangers. This is my family. It's personal."

It was then that Sav introduced me, ignorant of what his calling me out there would do. "Okay, up first we have a talented scribe; only in grade 10, she's taking grade 11 Advanced English. Please put your hands together for Clare Edwards."

* * *

Two hours later, Darcy and I sat at The Dot, where Peter made sure we were never without chocolate milkshakes. It was quite clear that he still had a thing for her, and I would have liked to spend my afternoon playing matchmaker—but, I was too busy hating myself for doing what I had done. The showcase had been a disaster. My mom had left before I'd been able to finish my reading, which had incited much conversation amongst her colleagues; sympathetic or not, their whispers hadn't assuaged my anxiety, and I'd made my exit by storming out of the room and crashing into Eli—who might have held me for longer had I not yanked myself free.

Luckily, I'd managed to persuade Darcy to take me with her afterwards; having heard a portion of my letter herself, she hadn't asked many questions, and even though I was missing class again, I didn't care. I just wanted to be as far away from my parents—and as far away from Degrassi—as possible. I'd even ignored the text messages Eli had sent me minutes after I'd stormed out.

"How long has this been going on?" Darcy asked, finally breaking the silence.

I shrugged, fighting the urge to cry.

She took my hand. "This isn't your fault, Clare. You know that, right?"

I nodded—but, I wasn't entirely sure. If I hadn't been responsible for their marital problems before, I sure as hell was responsible for them now. The strange thing was, I felt better. I still felt horrible, but, I felt better. I'd said everything I'd wanted to say. I felt honest.

"Do you think they'll hate me?"

"No." Darcy replied. "I think they'll change. It'll get worse, or it'll get better. They love you—they love us. And, you've reminded them that this is our family, too. They're hurting us."

I let out a convulsive sob.

"Things have to move forward now," she added. "There's nowhere else for them to go."

Suddenly, I understood. Eli hadn't been trying to help make things right, or to fix what had been broken. He had been trying to help _me_ help my parents leave the starting line. Eli had helped to make them move. The race would get worse, or the race would get better, but, in time, we would all cross the finish line. The race would amount to something.


End file.
